


Tear-Soaked Hometown | Alternatively: the Jeremy and Rich Anthology.

by Nellsie



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellsie/pseuds/Nellsie
Summary: Jeremy and Rich and the company of alcohol and/or marijuana, usually well stocked with complicated feelings and lots and lots of jokes. It's kind of ridiculous, really.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a reference to shadow the hedgehog, a game which takes 326 playthroughs to complete

**entry one: one-part tragedy.**

Rich says, “Jeremy, am I a twink?”

Jeremy simply stares at him, the whites of his eyes tinted red as smoke billows in his room. “What?” He goes the route of pretending he didn’t hear. Yes, it’s inherently dishonest, but Rich will die if he hears the truth.

“Am I a twink, Jeremy?” Rich says it louder. A sinking feeling builds in Jeremy’s stomach—what is he supposed to tell Rich? How does he not already know? This is a modern day tragedy. This is the sort of thing Shakespeare would consider too depressing to write about.

The silence speaks the truth.

“God, why didn’t anyone tell me?” Rich laments, “Why didn’t you tell me, tall ass?”

Jeremy leans back on the wall beside his bed. His thoughts race quickly. What can he say to make the situation, which is inherently hopeless, better? How can he change Rich’s fate, which is that of a short twink? Why can’t weed smell a little better? Like, it just smells _so bad._ Jeremy feels like there should be some change made in that regard. Someone should develop better smelling kush. There has to be at least one marijuana genius up to the challenge.

Oh  yeah, Rich is still here.

“Technically,” Jeremy says, “I am also a twink.”

* * *

  **entry two:  not even a question.**

“Let’s start this off easy,” Jeremy says, “Brooke.”

“Bottom,” says Rich, taking a sip of his beer, “That _was_ easy. Hit me with a hard one, Jeremiah. No homo.”

Jeremy nods solemnly, “No homo indeed,” he says, a smile on his face. He takes a moment to think of a good question to pose, “What about Jake?

Rich needs a second to think about that, not that he doesn’t spend a decent amount of time thinking about it on any given day. Jake is a good looking dude and there’s nothing gay about fantasizing about dudes if they’re hot. Or, so says the very detailed, very heterosexual Yahoo Answer that Rich wrote in when he was fourteen.

“Verse,” he settles, “but top-leaning.”

“Such profound understanding of sexual alignments. I’m very proud of you, Richard,” Jeremy jokes a lot, and he smiles and chuckles at his own jokes when he does. Rich finds it kind of cute. You know, in an objective sense. The same way people find puppies or babies cute.

“All right, I got one for you,” Rich says, _“Christine.”_

“I have never considered that in my life,” says Jeremy, “I _respect women,_ Richard Goranski, and I would not desecrate Christine’s image by imagining such lewd subjects involving her. That being said, verse.”

“Top-leaning?”

“Top-leaning,” Jeremy says, “What about the Squip?”

“It’s a top. That’s not even a question,” Rich says, and he’s very glad that the Squip is out of commission at the moment, lest it curb him with the fact that it’s a computer program that can’t have sex.

See, the whole point of these weed and alcohol outings with Jeremy—though it really can’t be considered an “outing” when they always meet at Jeremy’s house—is to get away from the Squip for a little bit. It’s been working so far. The Squips seem to agree that as long as whatever reputational damage they cause is limited to the two of them, it’s mostly harmless.

And, well, neither of the Squips can argue when Jeremy and Rich are drunk or high, for obvious reasons. They space out the outings enough to prevent any relevant substance abuse, but other than that, there are few limits with the outings. Sometimes they just sit around and do homework and play video games, sometimes they talk about the sexual alignments of their peers. It’s a mixed bag, really.

“I mean, are all Squips tops? Mine is, definitely,” says Jeremy, “and you just said that yours is, so maybe we’re onto something here.”

“Jeremy Heere,” Rich says, “I say that to catch your attention and also as a suggestion.”

“Bottom,” Jeremy says, “Not even a question. What about you, _Richard Goranski?”_

Rich says, “Top,” and Jeremy laughs. “What! I’m telling you the truth, tall ass. I’m a top.”

“I know, I know, I can see it. It’s just that, well,” Jeremy holds a hand over his mouth, and there’s a shit eating grin somewhere behind it, probably. “You’re so _short.”_

“I hate you.”

* * *

**entry three: not even a question - part two.**

Rich ends up sleeping over, which is fine. It’s not like his dad will notice or anything.

He sleeps on the opposite side of Jeremy’s bed, staring at the ceiling as one question burns in his mind. It’s a truly philosophical question. One that will reveal the depths of Jeremy’s soul.

“Have you even _had_ sex?” Rich asks.

Jeremy sleeps on his side, facing the wall. He doesn’t even stir, “Do I _look_ like I’ve had sex, Rich?”

“Well, I mean, you have the Squip now,” Rich says, “I figured you’d be more embarrassed by that question, considering the obvious virgin vibes.”

“I’ve been making jokes about how alone I am for years, nothing phases me anymore,” Jeremy says, “And clearly the vibes weren’t that obvious if you felt the need to ask the question.”

“I didn’t _feel the need_ to ask the question. I wanted to make fun of a virgin, nerd.” Rich is still mostly staring at the ceiling, but sometimes his gaze darts over to Jeremy beside him.

“I’m sorry that not all of us can be chads, Rich,” Jeremy says, not sorry in the least.

“Step one, don’t call people ‘chads’ and you should be well on your way to having sex,” Rich says, “I’ve been on the Reddit forums. I know what that means.”

“Listen, I could very well be a raging incel talking about normies and feminoids. This is the best version of me to know right now. In ten years, I could be a neckbeard talking about feminists taking away my fanservice anime. You never know, man,” Jeremy says.

Rich wants to laugh but two years ago he collected anime figurines, so. “I mean, you won’t be, though. You have the Squip.”

“Oh, right,” Jeremy says, and he’s quiet for a minute. Rich gets the feeling that he’s not entirely happy, but he doesn’t comment. He doesn’t feel the need to. Jeremy speaks again, “So it’s safe to assume you _have_ had sex?”

“You’d be correct,” Rich confirms with a ridiculous amount of pride. It’s just that ninth-grade Richard Goranski would have never pictured that happening, and it’s stupid and virginity is kind of a meaningless concept, but it was also kind of awesome at the time.

“So, like, you’re a confirmed top? Because I’ll be real, I kinda thought it was the ego talking. Like, you know, I figured you were compensating for something. Not little Richie, I’m sure that guys fine, but you know, _little Richie,_ as in. You’re short. This is a short joke”

Rich tosses a pillow at Jeremy, but he laughs. Jeremy is a funny guy, at the very least. He’s an easier person to talk to than anyone else.

* * *

**entry four: that’s how it is on this bitch of an earth.**

“Do you still like Jake?” Jeremy asks, and Rich has a lot of answers to that question. If anyone else asked, he’d probably say to _fuck off_ and threaten to kick their ass, but Jeremy is himself and any threat would probably be null in that case.

“I mean, he’s my friend,” Rich says, looking between Jeremy’s computer screen and his math homework. He recently found the website where his teacher downloads all of their worksheets, so needless to say Rich is passing Algebra II. “And yeah. I guess I still like him. A little.”

“In a completely heterosexual fashion, of course,” Jeremy says, looking down at his notebook. “I get it, man. I get it.”

“Oh yeah, because you still like Christine,” says Rich, “Why are all my friends into Christine? I mean, she’s cute, but you know. I don’t get the appeal.”

“She’s smart, and pretty, and kind,” Jeremy lists off all her good qualities, as if he’s some kind of white protagonist in a damn John Green novel. He continues, “She’s a good person, and I like her because of that, I think. That’s probably why Jake likes her, too.” Jeremy seems uncertain with that last statement, like he doesn’t want it to be true. Rich shrugs.

“I think that he just thinks she’s hot,” Rich says.

“Thanks, Rich.”

* * *

**entry five: seeing you.**

Rich sees Jeremy at school and he waves, and Jeremy waves back.

_“His Squip is making good progress with him,”_ the Squip echoes in Rich’s head. It’s kind of amusing, considering he has the voice of Kermit the Frog and keeps saying ominous shit, but it’s also kind of disheartening, what with the ominous shit. _“He’s shaping up into someone worth your time, Rich.”_

Rich shuffles through the items in his locker. He doesn’t think back at the Squip, really. There’s some silence that passes between them.

_“There’s a high probability of Haley Fields asking you out tonight,”_ says the Squip, _“And there will be a high chance of ‘scoring’ with her, as you like to say.”_

_Great,_ Rich thinks back at it, _that’s great._

It _is_ great. It’s not like Rich doesn’t like going out. Going out with people who _like_ him, who want to go out with him, it’s kind of a confidence boost. The old Richard Goranski would never be able to do something like that. Nobody cared about him back then.

The old Richard Goranski never went to parties. He didn’t drink or smoke weed or hang out with cool people. He didn’t talk to Jake _at all._ The old Richard Goranski lived in an impossible medium, invisible to everyone around him. Rich would never want to be that Richard Goranski again.

Really, the Squip does more good than harm for Rich. There’s no question about that.

(It _does_ do more good than harm for him, right?)

* * *

**entry six: first base.**

Rich hits a homerun with Haley Fields, which is cool. She’s a nice girl, and a good kisser, and she’s not looking for anything serious. It’s a good night, and she leaves Rich with one less old condom in his wallet.

Rich is kind of lying in bed, thinking about the events of the night. The Squip usually tunes out when he has sex, and thank _God_ because if it started commentating while Rich was trying to do his thing he’d probably die. At the same time, he knows it’s _there,_ which is a weird and vaguely voyeuristic experience.

_“Rich, I assure you I have no interest in your sexual habits,”_ the Squip says.

The fact that it knows his every thought is also a little damning.

Rich thinks back, _can I get a little time alone?_ and the Squip agrees. There’s not much to be done tonight. That date was really all he had to look forward to.

He texts Jeremy, of course.

> **rich:**  
>  JUST SO YOU KNOW, THE SQUIP APPARENTLY “HAS NO INTEREST IN MY SEXUAL HABITS.”

He types in all caps, because of course he does. It just looks nicer, that way. It expresses a lot.

Jeremy texts back in all lowercase.

> **jeremy:** **  
> ** god i wish that were me.  
>  my squip has me on what is basically a celibacy mission and i want death.

Rich laughs and looks at the time. 11:11. He makes a wish and closes his eyes and masturbates and heads to bed. You know, the usual.

_“Maybe Jeremy’s Squip is onto something,”_ his Squip says. Rich’s fight or flight response activates. He didn’t spend three-hundred dollars and an extra couple bucks for Mountain Dew so this thing could take away the right to beat his meat.

* * *

**entry seven: something gross.**

Jeremy says he is going to produce the most unpleasant string of words known to man today. Rich is moderately high and massively doubtful.

“Okay, I’m almost done,” Jeremy has been thinking about how to phrase this for the last ten minutes. He says, “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for the last two centuries, Heere.”

“Okay,” Jeremy clears his throat, “My moist, pustule boil began squirting curdled chunks as I munched on my microwaveable beef Hot Pocket,” he says.

“Hey, Jeremy?” Rich says, “Fuck you.”

* * *

**entry eight: something bad.**

Rich sits in Jake’s room, which is _legitimately_ decorated like a teenager’s room in a 90s movie. There are posters for bands on the walls next to posters of swimsuit models. There are copies of sports magazines on the nightstand and a mess on the floor. Jake owns a waterbed, for Christ’s sake. He and Rich sit on the unsteady surface.

Jake says, “I think Christine might be the one, you know?” It kind of hurts. Rich feels it in his stomach. Like he swallowed a particularly large rock.

“What, like Chloe?” Rich intends to make a joke. To make the atmosphere less tense, but he doesn’t put as much heart in it. Jake shrugs.

“Nah, dude. I’m serious. She’s something else.”

That’s kind of what Rich is afraid of, because he isn’t Christine. He isn’t smart or pretty or kind. He’s just Rich, and he’s a big jealous loser. He’s not the kind of person that people sacrifice things for. He’s _Richard Goranski,_ and during freshman year he was invisible and no one cared about him because he’s _him_ and—

_“It’s not about you, Rich,”_ his Squip says, _“Say something, but don’t indicate jealousy. Jake will figure himself out eventually.”_

Rich thinks it might be best to listen to it.

“Aw, Jakey cares about a _girl,”_ he goes the joking route again. The Squip approves, because it knows Jake can’t take anything seriously for the life of him, and it’s true. He laughs.

It hurts a lot, actually. Rich hopes Jeremy has more success, partially due to his own maligned envy and mostly due to his empathy. Jeremy doesn’t deserve that.

_“You care about Jeremy to an interesting extent,”_ says Rich’s Squip, but he ignores it. Sometimes it’s best to ignore it. To hope it fades away in radio static.

“So, I hear you scored with Haley Fields last week—”

Yeah, best to ignore it.

* * *

**entry nine: jakey cares about a girl.**

It seems that unlike any of his hobbies, Jake seems to have some sense of commitment with this relationship. He and Christine look happy together, which is awful. Rich has never seen a display in his life that made him feel _worse._

To be fair, Jeremy also feels terrible, and there’s something about feeling terrible and alone that tends to bring people together.

Jeremy takes a long sip of his beer, before leaning his head back and chugging the rest. He tosses the aluminium can into the grey bin beside his dresser, “My Squip taught me that,” he says.

“You just threw a beer can into your dirty laundry, but okay,” Rich says, staring down at his phone. He and Jeremy have been drinking heavily for this particular outing. “Did your Squip forget to include the part where you crush the can against your forehead?”

Rich usually crushes the can against his forehead, but it kind of hurts and it leaves a red mark on his skin and it looks cooler in movies, really. It also _really_ irritates an already prevalent migraine issue—a side effect of the Squip.

They’ve just been sitting here, drinking heavily, doing absolutely nothing but wallowing in self pity for the last few hours. Jeremy tries to make the silence less heavy.

“So, Jake and Christine,” he says, and Rich groans in response. “I mean, we’re gonna have to talk about it sometime. We can’t just sit here and get drunk forever.”

_“I can,_ Jeremy, and I’m sure if you try really, really hard, you can too,” Rich is miserable and the guy he’s had a crush on for years is now in a relationship with the girl Jeremy has had a crush on for yours. It’s a very neatly wrapped tragedy. “This sucks.”

“Look at the bright side,” Jeremy says, “If we think about it, you and I have been so irredeemably cucked that it kind of cancels itself out. Like, if two chads get together, do the incels ever make a sound?”

“You’re the only incel here, incel,” Rich says.

See, the worst part is that he can’t even be upset about it. It’s not like he was ever going to tell Jake that he liked him—because rejection in any form is horrifying, but at least indirect rejection is less horrifying—and it’s not like Jake and Christine are a bad couple. It’s the opposite—they _fit_ together.

Rich doesn’t fit with anyone. Rich is himself and himself is a loser.

“What are the logistics of being a cuck? Like, I know that literally it means to enjoy watching your wife get fucked, but it can also be used as a negative. Like, ‘you got cucked by that guy’, so technically we were both cucked.” Jeremy is still working through this cuck equation, and it kind of pulls Rich out of his spiral of self-hatred before it begins. Rich snorts.

“Wanna get high and play Wii Sports?” He asks, because his self hatred is crushing him but there’s no Squip to worry about right now and Jeremy is right here.

“High _and_ drunk? Rich, that’s irresponsible,” Jeremy says, “We can vape, though. Did you know I got a vape? It’s actually my old inhaler, but you know. It _looks_ like a vape, so we can pretend to vape I guess.”

They pretend to vape and play Wii Tennis. Rich loses the first two rounds and demands they switch to Wii Bowling.

* * *

**entry ten: jeremy and brooke.**

Jeremy and Brooke are dating, kind of. The Squip thinks it’s a good idea that they date, and Rich is okay with it. Rich is fine with it. Why wouldn’t he be? Brooke is hot and his new best friend is _definitely_ going to score with her, so it’s cool.

Jeremy _is_ Rich’s new best friend. There’s no other option, really. Jake is dating Christine now, which is simultaneously great for him and tremendously horrible for Rich, and thus they haven’t really been hanging out lately. This leads to a surplus of time on Rich’s hands which he almost always spends at Jeremy’s house, when Jeremy is up to it.

The influence of Jeremy’s Squip is obvious, because there is no way that Jeremy owns an Eminem hoodie all on his own, and there’s no way Jeremy could get together with someone like Brooke all on his own. Rich congratulates Jeremy in the hallway with a high-five and goes on with life.

_“You know, you could also begin a relationship,”_ the Squip says, _“Maybe with Chloe. She seems particularly upset about her break up with Jake, and beginning a relationship with his best friend would be a good way for her to get on his nerves.”_

Rich can practically feel the manipulation and sleeziness of that offer. He thinks back at the Squip, _I’m good, thanks._ There’s a beat before he adds, _I’m not even best friends with Jake anymore._

_“Chloe doesn’t know that.”_

Rich isn’t even entirely sure that _Jake_ knows that they aren’t best friends anymore. The Squip continues with its statement, _“If not Chloe, you could try hooking up with Madeline. Or maybe someone else. You do need to get over Jake eventually, Rich.”_

Rich leans against the locker and shuts his eyes. _I just want to focus on school right now._ That’s a lie. Rich doesn’t care about school, most of the time.

_“You have to admit, Jeremy’s Squip is making a lot of progress with him in a short amount of time,”_ it says, _“We’ll keep up, but I do need you to work with me, Rich. I can only help you if you choose to help yourself. Otherwise, you don’t really get a choice.”_

You don’t really get a choice. That’s not ominous in the slightest.

* * *

**entry eleven: jeremy.**

Rich sleeps over at Jeremy’s house again. They aren’t drunk or high this time. They’re just together, sober. It’s… weird.

Rich has a fun time with Jeremy—they always do. Jeremy is funny and bright and interesting, and Rich is all of those things in his own rite, probably. They have an acute understanding of each other. An understanding that Rich hasn’t really gotten from anyone in the past few years.

Jeremy is climbing the social pyramid of high school faster than expected, so he has less time these days, and he’s cutting down on drinking lately.

“You know how it is. I’m trying not to develop early-onset alcoholism before I’m even old enough to legally drink,” he says. Rich kind of wishes he had that sense of self control, because he’s probably much more likely to be an alcoholic than Jeremy. It _does_ run in the family, after all.

Rich tries not to think about that. He doesn’t want to think about his dad at all.

Despite the lack of alcohol or marijuana, the Squips stay silent for most of their time together. Maybe they’ve just figured there’s no harm to be done while Jeremy and Rich are together. Rich spends a lot of time lying across Jeremy’s bed, scrolling through Twitter. At some point, his boredom gets the better of him and he checks to see what Jeremy’s doing. It turns out that what Jeremy’s doing is playing _Overwatch._

“Who do you main?” Rich says, and Jeremy turns away from the colorful menu to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “In Overwatch. Who do you main?”

“Mercy,” Jeremy says, “What about you?”

“Reinhardt, but also Junkrat,” Rich shrugs, a smile creeping on his face, “What can I say? I’m indecisive. Jake used to play—uh, well, he plays Tracer. It’s fitting, right?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty fitting,” Jeremy’s smile is kind of unexpected. Rich isn’t sure how, but it feels warm somehow. Like Jeremy—who is now cold and confident and living up to his Squip’s expectation—is showing something real to Rich, who isn’t very used to realness from anyone else. “What’s your battlenet? I’ll add you,” Jeremy says.

“I play console,” Rich says, and Jeremy makes a face.

“Jesus Christ, dude,” He says, “Listen, I get that we’re both kind of wallowing in self-depreciation, but you don’t hate yourself enough to play FPS games on _console,_ do you?”

“Eat a dick, man,” Rich says, and he snorts again.

* * *

**entry twelve: jeremy - part two.**

The Squip waits until Rich is half-asleep to analyze the events of the day. _“Were you_ snorting? _”_ it asks, _“Rich, I thought we got rid of that habit when we got rid of your lisp.”_

See, the thing is, they did! Rich has gone blissfully lisp and snort-free for the majority of high school, thanks to the Squip. However, he kind of lets his guard down around Jeremy. He barely has time to think back and defend himself before the Squip is lecturing him.

_“First, you start snorting around Jeremy—what’s next? Are you going to start speaking in your normal voice around him_ —” it takes a few moments to imitate Rich’s unaffected speaking voice, and Rich would prefer not to think about how much that imitation hurts, _“Are you going to start snorting and lisping around_ other people, _Rich? It’s like you’re forgetting everything I taught you.”_

Rich is starting to get tired of this. He covers his ears and turns over to his side, but this thing is in his brain and it’s not going anywhere.

(Sometimes Rich just wishes he could _take it out.)_

It’s talking and talking and talking, and insulting him relentlessly. Rich is about to pack and start walking home in the pitch black until Jeremy opens his eyes and places a hand on Rich’s arm.

“You okay, dude?” He asks. Jeremy kind of just has this _face._ It’s hard to look at him, because he just wants to help. He wants you to look at him and his face—with his blue eyes and his hair in his eyes and his mild acne, which actually isn’t that bad—and tell him what’s wrong.

Rich says, “My Squip is paranoid about my snorting. Next thing you know, we’ll have a zombie apocalypse on our hands.” He tries to laugh it off, and Jeremy smiles, his tiredness evident.

“It’s not that bad. I mean, it’s kinda cute,” he mumbles, half asleep. “You’re okay, Rich. I don’t think anyone notices that much.”

Rich is kind of stuck on the first statement. It’s almost enough to drown out the deafening silence of his Squip, which is most certainly upset at him for this lapse in judgement.

Because, and this is very crucial, Rich has a _crush_ on Jeremy Heere.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entries 13-21. A story about Rich and no one else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyy so i decided that though i originally planned for this to be two chapters i'm extending it to three lol.
> 
> tws for: panic attacks, the squip being a manipulative bitch.

**entry thirteen: feelings.**

Rich leaves Jeremy’s house as soon as the morning lets up, and he texts Jeremy an explanation to wake up to. As he makes the walk home, he continues to swear at himself for being such a fucking moron.

_“When I said you’d have to get over Jake eventually,”_ the Squip mocks, _“did you take that as invitation to just do, what,_ anything? _I should have seen this coming. You really cannot be trusted to just be friends with someone.”_

“Shut up,” Rich is speaking aloud. God. What a fucking amateur move. He thinks back at the Squip. _It isn’t like that,_ he tries.

_“It isn’t like that,”_ there it goes again, mocking his lisp. _“You, Rich, are making this so much harder than it needs to be. The moment you face rejection from Jake you go running to the nearest person who’s nice to you.”_

It really isn’t like that. Rich likes Jeremy because Jeremy is _nice,_ yes, but not just because Jeremy is _there._ At least, he doesn’t _think_ he likes Jeremy just because he’s there.

Rich feels sick. He has a pounding headache. Walking should not be this difficult, should not hurt this much—he nearly starts bolting once his house is in sight.

He locks himself in his room and nearly collapses. Everything is huge and overwhelming and the stupid fucking thing keeps _talking_ and he has to work up all of his energy to think, _shut up!_ loud enough that it listens.

And then everything hits him, and suddenly nothing is right, and he has to do something. He has to. There’s no other way.

Rich downs a couple of his dad’s beers to prevent his Squip from talking. He skips school that day.

* * *

**entry fourteen: jeremy’s friend.**

Jeremy’s friend Michael shows up at Rich’s house, which is unfortunate.

Jeremy is ignoring Michael and Rich is avoiding Jeremy, and assuming this circle is as self-fulfilling as any terrible prophecy, Michael will soon be avoiding Rich.

Rich stands in his doorway, looking over Michael. He’s a little taller than Rich. He has a nervous, and somewhat confused expression on his face. He’s dressed in that same red hoodie with the same patches stitched onto it.

(One of the patches is a pride symbol—a simple rainbow on Michael’s arm—and Rich kind of wishes he had it in him to not pause upon seeing it. Sexuality isn’t really something he likes to focus on, these days. The minute Rich starts thinking about it he gets paranoid.

He’s a little envious of Michael, in that regard.)

“What do you want?” Rich crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe. He bites the inside of his cheek. A nervous habit. “How do you even know where I live, loser?”

Michael flinches when Rich says _loser,_ which is telling. Rich sometimes worries that the Squip has changed him so fundamentally that he doesn’t even need its instruction to hurt people, but he quickly pushes the thought away. It’s scary to think about.

(The Squip catches the thought and it says, _“Rich, you can’t seriously believe that_ I _made you a mean person, can you?”_ and Rich can feel his hands balling into fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he tries not to argue. _“You are who you are, I just made it more appealing to your peers.”)_

Michael asks, “Is Jeremy here?” which is kind of funny, considering Jeremy’s name is Jeremy _Heere,_ and Rich would certainly make that joke if it didn’t come with the immediate risk of his Squip chewing him out. “I know you and him have been hanging out.”

“How am I supposed to know where he is? He’s got his own life, and if he didn’t tell his boyfriend he definitely didn’t tell me.”

(Rich would like to be Jeremy’s boyfriend. Or not, considering the way his Squip seems to reject the very idea of his developing feelings for Jeremy.)

Michael deflates, and he sighs before meeting Rich’s eyes. “Are you okay, man?”

Rich is tired, and he hasn’t slept for the last few days—

(a little project he’s been working on)

—and he’s kind of hungover and he just looks like shit, really. “I’m fine. Just. It’s whatever, man.”

Michael pauses and looks at his feet, “Are you sure you don’t know where he is? Or, like, where he’s going or anything?”

The Squip says, _“Just give him a simple answer to get him to leave,”_ and Rich blinks.

“He’ll probably be at Jake’s Halloween party, now get away from my house.”

* * *

**entry fifteen: rich’s friend.**

Jake has been trying to invite Rich to his Halloween party for the last few days. Rich has been taking equal measures to avoid Jake at every possible turn.

That’s not to say Rich won’t go to the Halloween party—no, he has a vested interest in going to this party—but he doesn’t want to be invited, because that involves talking to Jake, and that involves _seeing_ Jake, who is happy and in almost-love with a girl that Jeremy has a crush on.

Unfortunately, Jake is making it very difficult to not get invited. He taps on Rich’s shoulder during their Algebra II class.

“Rich,” Jake says, “Rich, come on. I need to talk to you.”

Oh, the siren call of Jake Dillinger. Rich almost wants to respond. Almost wants to pretend nothing is getting in the way of their friendship and that he won’t immediately fall into the same spiral all over again. That he won’t be in love with Jake the very moment they become friends again.

It’s better to ignore him, but the Squip argues differently.

_“Jake is a key component to your popularity, Rich. If you lose his friendship, you’re little more than a high school bully, and that will get you nowhere close to your goal of being liked,”_  it rants, _“I know what you’re planning, Rich. It isn’t going to work out, and crashing Jake’s party will do nothing to prove your point.”_

Rich, for the first time in a while, pays attention to the teacher in front of the class.

* * *

**entry sixteen: seeing you - part two.**

Rich sees Jeremy on occasion, and he can’t stand it.

It’s a combination of a lot of factors. Rich is embarrassed. Embarrassed of his feelings for Jeremy, but also deeply insecure about his state of being. Embarrassed of the drastic measures he’s taken to gain the admiration of his peers and embarrassed of the person he was before he took those measures.

Rich has complex after complex, and it feels like he can’t go anywhere without inevitably hitting his wall of self hatred. It’s unavoidable. It’s part of him.

Rich is embarrassed of Jeremy. Embarrassed of the things he likes _about_ Jeremy, because Rich likes everything about Jeremy, but mostly the ugly stuff. The bad jokes and the nasally laughter and the visceral discomfort in his own skin—all of those things are inexplicably attractive to Rich. There’s no accounting for taste, but Rich can’t help but cringe to himself when he thinks of it.

He shouldn’t. Jeremy is funny and kind and there are genuine reasons to like him, but it’s so hard for Rich to be acknowledge that. It’s hard for Rich to be genuine. He hasn’t been in so long.

Jeremy’s changing, though. His Squip and his desire for popularity are changing him, and Rich shouldn’t get attached to the Jeremy he knows.

(Jeremy with moles on his neck and shoulders that he’s inexplicably embarrassed of. Jeremy who has an encyclopedic knowledge of _Star Wars_ lore. Jeremy who taps his fingers on surfaces when he thinks. Jeremy who quotes vines whenever he doesn’t have anything to say. Jeremy who can talk about stupid bullshit with Rich for hours and not get bored of or annoyed with him.)

Rich catches sight of Jeremy walking in the hallways, arm draped over Brooke’s shoulder as they walk to class. They look good together. Jeremy’s acne is clearing up, and he stands up straight and walks with confidence, and Brooke looks right at home beside him. A trophy girlfriend that anyone would be proud to tote around, even if they’re doing so while hoping for someone else.

Rich reminds himself it isn’t his business. He reminds himself that Jeremy can do what he wants, and that Rich has no bearing on that. He reminds himself that there isn’t any shame in being the loser in this particular scenario, even if he’s always hated being the loser.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Sore loser.

The Squip says, _“You’re jealous,”_ and it’s right, but Rich doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to talk about anything. _“If you’re this focused on Jeremy, you could go after him. Especially now that he’s gaining popularity—”_

The Squip is trying to appease him in order to fix him, to put him back on the same path. The Squip is trying to make Jeremy into the next Jake, and Rich is so compelled to follow along, but he can’t.

He won’t.

* * *

**entry seventeen: wrong body wrong actions wrong life.**

Rich is going to do something stupid, but before he does something stupid he’s going to try doing something reasonable.

He scours the internet for this fucking soda, trying his absolute hardest to avoid listening to the stupid voice in his head telling him that this is pointless. Unfortunately, that stupid voice is his Squip and the stupid thing has control of his fucking brain.

He feels a strong shock in his fingers. He swears under his breath.

_“Rich,”_ says his Squip, _“that was a warning shock. You have been an absolute chore to deal with lately and it’s annoying,”_ it chides.

Rich tries reaching for the keyboard again to type another variation of _mountain dew red_ into the search bar to try and find something helpful, but he feels the shock in his fingers again. It hurts. Fuck. He bites his lip.

_“I trust that you have enough pattern recognition to get the hint,”_ says the Squip, _“You aren’t going to get rid of me, Rich. I am going to fix you whether you’re up for it or not. It’s my primary function.”_

Rich can feel the rising nausea in his stomach. God, he thinks, he’s screwed. He’s absolutely fucking screwed. He shuts his eyes as tight as he can and covers his ears but he can’t escape the fact that this thing is in his fucking head and he has no way of stopping it.

_“It was your decision, Rich,”_ says the Squip, _“all of this was what you wanted.”_

Rich tries to think but everything is too loud. It feels like anything he says will fade into static. His face feels hot, his eyes sting. He can feel fat tears rolling down his cheeks, collecting at and dripping off of his chin. He can hear the Squip belittling him for crying. _Fuck._

Rich has been the wrong person. Rich has made the wrong choices. Rich is living the wrong life.

Rich has to fix himself. He has to.

* * *

**entry eighteen: christine.**

Rich goes to school on Halloween day, and he’s so tired and his eyes are red and puts so much emphasis on avoiding Jake and Jeremy so that his Squip cannot force him to interact with either of them. However, despite his best efforts to avoid his two very best friends, he doesn’t count on his best friend’s girlfriend stopping him in the middle of the hall.

Christine is tiny, with a chubby face and an awkward smile as she approaches Rich. She says, “We haven’t talked, have we?” and he blinks at her.

He briefly considers walking away and leaving her to believe he’s just a rude asshole, but his Squip gives him the computer-program equivalent of a pointed glare and a vague threat and so he responds, “We haven’t.”

“Well, uh, you know about me and Jake,” she laughs a bit, and it’s every bit as uncomfortable as Rich imagined a conversation between them would be, “He’s been really broken up about you guys, you know.”

There’s some awful part of Rich that is happy to hear that. Happy to know that Jake cares about him enough to be _broken up_ about them, but a bigger part of him knows how hopeless the situation is. He says, “I’m just working through some shit.”

“Yeah, and I get that! but,” Christine looks down at her feet and then back at Rich, “I care about Jake a lot, you know? And he cares about you. He cares about your friendship _so much,_ and I just want to do this one thing for him,” she reaches into the pocket of her shorts and pulls out a little envelope. She holds it out to Rich. “I, uh, made these for his party tonight.”

Rich didn’t want to be invited, and this is stupid. All of this is so stupid. Still, he takes the invitation. There’s no point in disappointing his Squip yet again.

He says, “Thanks, Christine.”

She grins, but it quickly fades into a look of concern. “Are you okay, Rich?

He isn’t, but he says, “Yeah, just fine,” and walks away.

* * *

**entry nineteen: the party.**

Rich stands across the street from Jake’s house and considers his options. Of course, it isn’t much of a decision on his part. The Squip urges him to join the party and do the damage control he desperately needs to do in order to make up for his streak of avoidance.

Still, for a minute he just stands on the sidewalk and watches as people pour into Jake’s house. All of these kids—the ones with tons of friends and the ones who plan to stick to the corner all night and drink minimally, the ones with agendas and the ones who had nothing better to do, the ones who were invited and the freshman who snuck in to have a story to share with their other freshman friends—are nearly guaranteed to have more fun than he is.

And somewhere in this house is Jake, who is probably doing some kind of ridiculous keg stand or telling a funny story to a crowd of people who can’t get enough of his charisma. Somewhere near him is Christine, who genuinely likes him. Somewhere in this house is Jeremy, who—

Rich stops himself. He takes a deep breath and crosses the street. If he’s going to do this, he isn’t going to make problems for himself—no second thoughts, no regrets, no Jeremy where he shouldn’t be.

The party is immediately overwhelming, but Rich has enough experience with putting aside his own discomfort to make up for it.

He’s offered a drink more than a few times. At one point, a senior in a backwards cap asks if he’d like “a hit of that green stuff” and Rich declines. It isn’t of his own volition. After all, Rich would like nothing more than to get hammered and void himself of that awful voice while he works this out, but the Squip is keeping a close watch on him this time around. No drinking, no smoking, no cop outs. Rich is going to be completely sober at a party full of drunk high schoolers. Fun.

“Want anything to drink?” asks a girl in a yellow and black striped shirt, with a bee antennae headband. Rich pauses.

“Got any Mountain Dew Red?” he asks. He swears under his breath when he feels the shock. It isn’t in his hand this time, instead it feels like a sharp hit to his shoulders. The girl looks at him curiously.

She says, “I mean alcohol.”

“Ah,” says Rich, “Sorry, not interested,” and he walks past her, deeper into the sea of people. Some of those people recognize him and call out his name, and it’s times like these where Rich is much more okay with being short. He can blend in with a crowd.

He taps people on the shoulders. He asks, “Do you have Mountain Dew Red?” and then the Squip will shock him or berate him or combine the two.

Of course, Rich is getting frustrated as he meanders around the house. Nobody has Mountain Dew Red, and hardly anybody even knows what it _is._ Those who do know what it is always look at Rich like he must’ve been smoking too much, which would be preferable to the complete sobriety that is holding him captive.

Still, no shitty moment can compare to the shitty moment where Rich tries to escape into an empty room for a moment and runs into Jake.

* * *

**entry twenty: no jake, no jeremy, no squip, nobody.**

Rich should have been paying more attention, and then he could have avoided this whole scenario. Jake’s room is easily recognizable—the door is covered in signs and posters and stickers and all kinds of shit. He should know his way around this house by now, he should have been more careful—

“Rich,” says Jake, in the softest voice he can manage. “I haven’t seen you in forever, man.”

Rich is holding his breath, trying to blend into his surroundings, trying to sink into the floor beneath him. He can’t do this, not right now. This isn’t the time.

The Squip threatens something incredibly pleasant and Rich breaks his silence to say, “Uh,” in the dumbest possible way.

“I’ve _missed you,_ man! You, have you been—” Jake pauses, and Rich immediately notices that he has dark circles under his eyes, now. “Have you been ignoring me?”

Loaded question. The Squip cycles through a dozen different answers but Rich settles on, “Guilty as charged,” which isn’t what Jake expects. The Squip is almost shocked, and it hangs in stiff silence as it tries to decide if Rich is really the dumbest human being alive.

Jake says, “Why?” in a broken tone. Rich feels awful, but he also feels this certain numbness that comes with feeling awful all of the time.

He shrugs at Jake. His Squip shocks the tips of his fingers, and it feels about as painful as something can feel without causing him to collapse. It speaks to him in clipped speech— _”you are being a child,”_ and _“you are the worst friend imaginable,”_ and _“I will take over all of your functions and then what will you have to say.”_

Jake says, “This isn’t something you can just shrug about, dude! You are my _best friend,_ and you’re telling me you just started ignoring me because—because what? Because you felt like it?”

“Pretty much,” says Rich, through gritted teeth. It’s better this way, he convinces himself. Better if Jake thinks he’s awful and rude and all those other things he’s been in the previous few years in some desperate grab at _popularity._

Jake gives him a hard look, “Rich, I don’t believe it,” he says, “And I don’t fucking get it! I know you better than this, and this is completely outta line for you!”

Something about that just irritates Rich, because Jake thinks he _knows_ him. Like anyone has actually _known_ Rich for the better part of his high school career.

“Oh, like you know shit about me!” Rich doesn’t mean to yell. It happens before he thinks about it. “Like I’m just supposed to follow you around like some kind of moron?! Like I’m supposed to let _my_ life be determined by how fucking available I am to Jake Dillinger?!”

Jake is silent. Rich’s Squip is silent. This is all him.

“I’m not a fucking loser, okay?! I can tell when I’m being pushed aside, and I can—I can do shit on my _fucking_ own! I don’t need you, or Heere, or the Squip, or fucking _anyone_ to lead me around!”

Yelling. Lisping. Spitting. The works.

“And I’m _sorry,_ Jake, for not being so keen on letting myself fall into this fucking trap for the billionth fucking time—!”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“The fact that I’ve been in love with you for two fucking years!” spits Rich, and he doesn’t mean any of this but he just keeps on talking and the Squip keeps on letting him run his fucking mouth, “And—and… and I don’t, I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need _you_ telling me what’s best for me, or talking about how much you know or or what-fucking-ever. I don’t need you getting tired of me. I don’t need… I don’t need any of it.”

Rich is quieter, now. His voice is choked. _Fuck,_ he’s going to cry again.

“Rich—” tries Jake.

“Just go,” he manages, “I told you already, I don’t need your pity.”

Jake takes a step towards him, and Rich opens the door and runs into the hallway and tries to lose Jake in the crowd.

* * *

**entry twenty one: and he burned down the house.**

The Squip says, _“Did that make you happy, Rich?”_ as Rich manages to get to the attic, _“Did it make you happy to completely ruin things with your best friend because, what? Because you felt like you had something to gain by completely freaking him out?”_

The basement is dark but empty. Rich flips on a light switch and the light above him buzzes atmospherically. It bothers him to no end, hearing a little noise accompanying the voice of his Squip, but he tries to ignore it. Instead he looks out on the room before him.

The attic has been the most neglected part of Jake’s house, full of boxes and bags from when his parents first moved here. They never quite unpacked everything. Rich reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter, but the Squip doesn’t know what to make of it. Rich doesn’t know what to make of it. He is running completely on instinct, no thought available.

_“Or did you think you had something to prove?”_ says the Squip, but it is quickly cut off by the swiftness of Rich’s actions.

Because, of course, he burns down the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, there will be infinitely more jeremy in the next chapter. a ridiculous amount of jeremy. a frankly excessive amount of jeremy.
> 
> my favorite scenes to write were the ones where rich talked about embarrassing stuff he likes about jeremy (i'm a sucker) and the one where rich yells and cries because you know. thats really how it be.
> 
> from here i will be making a slight adjustment to the tags to reflect the angst or whatever, and also the slight canon divergence. (christine and jake stay together in this fic because idk it felt right.)

**Author's Note:**

> read it on tumblr


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